


:D bro!!

by FoxGlade



Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse), Marvel (Movies), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gwen Stacy and MJ Watson Stitch n Bitch Club, Johnny Storm: serial text emoticon abuser, M/M, where everyone's identities are secret and the points don't matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxGlade/pseuds/FoxGlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The really sad thing here, is I know how straight you are,” MJ adds.</p><p>“It’s true, my only loving is for the ladies,” Johnny says, with a deep sigh. “Don’t worry, Parker, if I suddenly go all Brokeback, I’ll be coming for you.”</p><p>“That sounds terrifying, please don’t do that,” Peter says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	:D bro!!

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [:D ziom!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295011) by [Pochodnia (kasssumi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasssumi/pseuds/Pochodnia)



> it's a bit surreal to be writing fic for a pairing i haven't even thought about in nearly four years, yet here we are. i have no one to blame for this except myself
> 
> my working title for this was "asshole superhero fratboy roommates". coincidentally, the mix for this on 8tracks is under that name

The first time the “People Who Used to Date Peter Parker and Got Out Alive” Club meets, Peter is horrified, but also impressed. They have a banner and everything.

“What? It’s something to celebrate!” Gwen insists. MJ sips her coffee and looks innocent. Peter scuffs his feet and sighs.

“Fine. Fine! No, it is good, it’s, it’s a very nice banner, clearly you’ve thought this out,” he says.

“Essentially, it's a Stitch and Bitch club. We had a little trouble clearing it with the Extracurricular Council, though,” MJ adds. “Especially since there’s only two of us.”

“I’d suggest you invite Harry, but I think we’re still in a “mortal enemies” stage right now,” he replies. “You could try him next week?”

“I’m not touching that sentence with a ten foot pole,” MJ says. “Hey, you wouldn’t mind dating someone and breaking up with them, would you?”

Peter makes an inarticulate noise and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re a horrible person,” he says to them both. They give him almost identical looks of vindictive pleasure, and Peter wonders if he shouldn’t be the one thankful to make it out alive, instead of them.

When Johnny finds out via Facebook (seriously, they’ve made a page for it and everything, Peter is impressed by their dedication to making him feel terrible), he laughs for thirty seconds, then sends Gwen a message, promising to bake brownies for their next meeting. Peter crouches on the ceiling and reads over his shoulder, then attempts to pull him into a headlock, and then the whole thing ends in singed hair and clothes setting off the fire alarm. Again.

 

\---

 

Johnny Storm is infuriating to live with, and Peter has no idea how Sue did it for so long.

“You know he steals my socks?” he tells Gwen. He’s lying across the end of her bed, feet dangling off one edge and head lolling off the other. “Not to wear, he doesn’t ever wear socks. Well, I don’t know, I’ve never _seen_ him wear socks, but he could conceivably just be-“

“Peter,” Gwen interrupts. Her voice is slightly muffled by the pillow she has pressed over her face. “I love you, but it is _two in the morning_.”

“Is it?” Peter looks at the clock on the nightstand and, oh, what do you know. “Huh. I haven’t slept in a long time. I think I have a lecture in six hours. What day is it?”

“If you don’t get out of my room within ten seconds, I’m going to rip off your web shooters and cram them so far down your throat, you’ll be tasting your own genius for a month.”

“… Thank you?”

 

\---

 

“I told you to stop touching my books!” Peter yells, before he’s even properly in the door. The apartment is freezing, as usual, and he can hear the television blaring out something mindless. There’s no response, so Peter dumps his bag and camera on an already cluttered end table, kicks off his ratty sneakers, and shuffles into the kitchen to rummage in the cupboards for food.

His options are soy sauce, canned kidney beans, or the half-box of wheat crackers that MJ had left behind on cards night. He sucks it up and grabs the crackers, then jumps the counter into the lounge room.

Johnny is lying on the couch, a bowl of noodles abandoned on the ground next to him as he intently watches Dog Cops on their slightly fuzzy television. He waves half-heartedly when Peter perches on the back of the couch and scarfs down his pilfered, slightly stale crackers like the desperately broke college kid he is. Thank God Johnny actually makes fairly decent money with his job at the mechanics three blocks over, or Peter probably would have gone full spider mode and started eating insects just to keep his lightning fast metabolism happy.

“I told you to stop getting grease all over my books,” he says when the show cuts to commercials. Johnny rolls his eyes.

“And I told _you,_ I wouldn’t get grease on them if you didn’t keep leaving them all over the place,” he retorts. They bicker back and forth for a minute, the argument so old and routine that it’s almost comfortable.

“Whatever,” Johnny says finally. “You want the rest of my noodles?”

The noodles steam when Johnny hands them over, and the bowl is so hot that Peter has to juggle it for a few seconds, grateful that he’s wearing the hoodie with the cut out holes for his thumbs today, so that only his fingers get burned. Dog Cops comes back on, and he slides down from the back of the couch until he’s squished somewhere behind Johnny’s waist. Johnny gives him a smug look.

“It’s freezing,” he mumbles defensively through a mouthful of noodles. Johnny doesn’t reply, just curls a hand around one of Peter’s ankles and fixes his eyes on the television.

 

\---

 

“Oh my God you guys, _seriously_?” MJ says. It’s a Wednesday, which means pizza and crappy beer and worse movies and affectionately bitching at whichever one of their very limited number of friends decides to drop in and mooch. Peter gives her a wide-eyed stare from where he’s lying curled around Johnny on the couch (hey, it works, okay?), but Johnny just points a finger at her warningly.

“This is a judgement free zone!” he says, “Leave all judgement at the door, or you don’t get pizza.”

MJ shakes her head and steps out of the doorway, dropping into the armchair with the kind of exhaustion that comes from seven hour tech rehearsals. “I can’t believe you two aren’t sleeping together,” she says, leaning over to snag a slice of pepperoni pizza. “It’s kind of sad, but also hilarious.”

“You saying two manly, platonic bros can’t get their cuddle on without wanting to bang?” Johnny asks. “What a narrow world view you have, Miss Watson.”

“Two friends can cuddle just fine,” MJ shoots back, “I’m just saying, shirtless cuddling is probably where most people draw the line.”

“Narrow world view,” Johnny repeats, tone sad. MJ throws a pepperoni piece at him.

“The really sad thing here, is I know how straight you are,” she adds.

“It’s true, my only loving is for the ladies,” Johnny says, with a deep sigh. “Don’t worry, Parker, if I suddenly go all Brokeback, I’ll be coming for you.”

“That sounds terrifying, please don’t do that,” Peter says. “Really, can we stop talking about this, you talk about this every time you come over here.”

“That’s because every time I come over you two are shirtless and- you know what, never mind,” MJ says.

“I could be into guys if I wanted,” Johnny muses. “Like, that Michael B Jordan guy. I’d go gay for him.”

“You look exactly like him, that’s like, extreme narcissism right there,” MJ replies.

“I look nothing like him!”

“People ask you for autographs in the street,” Peter says.

“I’m the Human Torch, of course they do!”

“Literally only like, five people know you’re a superhero, is the concept of a secret identity completely lost on you?”

Peter, for all his quick metabolism, is the lightest of lightweights and passes out somewhere at the start of the second movie, snoring into Johnny’s shoulder while he and MJ fight over the last slice of Hawaiian.   

 

\---

 

It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation.

“Dude’s pretty fine, for a, y’know, dude,” Johnny will say to a bemused MJ. “He is a nerd, though. No offense, but I don’t really dig the nerd look.”

“None taken,” she replies dryly.

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure Sue thinks I’m sleeping with him. That’s weird, right?” he asks. “I mean, I really do not want to think about my sister sleeping with anyone. Especially not Reed, ugh.”

“He’s hot, don’t get me wrong,” Peter says to Gwen with a shrug. “No pun intended. Actually, heh, pun totally intended.”

“Peter,” Gwen groans. Peter dodges the pillow she throws, and continues.

“But he’s so…” He wrinkles his nose. “ _Straight_. Also, I’m pretty sure he only showers like, twice a week.”

“Gross,” Gwen agrees. “Now get out and _stop breaking into my room after midnight_."

 

\---

 

“Man, I have a lab report due tomorrow!” Peter moans as yet another Doombot flings itself towards him. He spins, dodges, then snags it with a web and hurls it at the side of a building, where it shatters. You’d think Doom would put a better effort into assembling these things, but hey, maybe he’s a quantity over quality kind of guy.

“Don’t worry, the others’ll be here in a minute, and then you can get back to your nerdery,” Johnny shouts back. He’s got almost fifteen bots trailing after him, and is zigzagging through the air, taking advantage of their shoddy manoeuvrability to make them smash into each other.

Doom himself is on the ground, smirking up at them. Presumably. It’s kind of hard to tell with the mask. “You are no match for my Doombots!” he yells, just as Peter nets four of them in one go and sends them hurtling towards the ground. Doom sidesteps them and glares when they shatter against each other.

“What’s the matter, Victor von Doom and Gloom, you get runner-up prize at the Science Fair or something?” Johnny heckles, and Peter winces when electricity starts to crackle off Doom.

“My professor’s gonna kill me,” he mutters.

 

\---

 

 ** _bring home thai food_** Johnny texts him at five in the afternoon, half an hour before Peter’s last lecture gets out. He guiltily swallows the last of a truly enormous bag of chips and texts back,

_broke. get it urself_

The next two texts come in quick succession, and the girl next to Peter stares when he jumps at the vibration.

**_peter!!!!_ **

**_bro!!! pls_ **

Screw spontaneous combustion, clearly Johnny’s superpower is the ability to guilt Peter into doing whatever Johnny wants. He sighs and covertly sends off another text.

_fine u owe me tho_

**_:D bro!!_ **

 

\---

 

It’s a bit surprising, to say the least, when they actually do sleep together.

The alarm for his nine o’clock lecture is going off, and Peter flails a hand out to grab it before realising that it’s in his bedroom, which means he has to get up to turn it off, as he is currently – not in his bedroom.

“Oh my God, Pete, turn it off, it’s like, midnight,” Johnny complains, face buried in the pillow.

“It’s half past eight,” Peter informs him. He’s trying to free the half of his body trapped underneath Johnny’s gently, like it’s a game of Jenga, until he realises that a speedy retreat might be the more tactical option. So he yanks himself off the bed, rolls, and flees.

He never claimed to be brave all the time, okay?

By the time he gets out of his 2pm lab prac with Gwen, he’s run the situation over enough in his head to blown past panic mode and landed firmly in “planning to cut all ties and move to Bangladesh” sulk mode. They walk together through the quad, and Gwen won’t stop looking at him suspiciously.

“What?” he says finally. Gwen grabs his hand and drags him to a free patch of grass, then sits, bringing Peter with her. And then she viciously pokes him in the neck

“Are those _hickeys_?” she hisses. “Why are you sulking if you have hickeys, that is so not something you sulk over.”

“I’m not sulking,” Peter says, sulkily. “And even if I was, hickeys would definitely be something to sulk over. I’m going to stop saying sulk now.”

“Oh my God, did you and Harry have angry arch-enemy sex again?!” she says. A girl reading a thick chemistry textbook a few feet away gives them a startled look. “Have some self-respect, Peter!”

“No! That was _one time_!” Peter replies, then takes a breath and lowers his voice. “It was Johnny, okay? We maybe kind of slept together.”

Gwen looks at him blankly, then starts to laugh. “It isn’t funny!” Peter hisses. “He’s going to freak out and start bringing home girls every night to prove that he’s straight and then he’ll probably kick me out for infecting him with my bisexuality!”

Gwen stops laughing. “Wait, you actually slept together?” she says. “ _Did_ you infect him with your bisexuality?”

“I don’t know! I got bitten by a radioactive spider and he lights himself on fire regularly, this would probably be the most logical thing to happen to us in months!”

“Stop freaking out,” Gwen orders. Peter does. “What actually happened? Spare me as many details as possible.”

“We got back from that bank robbery in Midtown, and we were celebrating – like, hugging each other, and then we just started kissing? And didn’t stop?” Peter puts his head in his hands and groans. “It seemed logical at the time.”

“I’m sure it did,” Gwen says, patting his arm sympathetically. Then she adds, “So, what’d he say when you woke up?” Peter shifts guiltily.

“He complained about my alarm going off, and then I left.”

“You left?”

“Ran away,” he admits. Gwen pokes him in the neck again.

“So what you’re saying is,” she clarifies, “he acted perfectly normally, and you freaked out.”

If he started digging now, he could probably bury himself six feet under before Gwen could do anything about it. “Maybe?”

Gwen whacks him over the head with her notebook. “Hey!”

“You’re a genius, Peter,” she says fondly, “But you’re also a moron, you know that?”

“A lot of people tell me,” he says. Gwen ruffles his hair, then stands up.

“Go back there and talk to him,” she orders. “Then, when you’re both happy and not freaking out, you’re going to take me to Starbucks and buy me the most expensive latte on the menu, because I deserve it for putting up with this.”

 

\---

 

Johnny has the late shift at the garage today, so Peter is left to mope around the apartment and reluctantly start on one of the journal summaries he has due before he hears the motorbike pull up in the street.

“Yo, Pete! I remembered I owed you one, so I got Chinese,” Johnny calls out, bursting through the door and fumbling with the lock behind him. “Hell’s Kitchen marathon, yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Peter replies automatically, and shakes his head at Johnny’s overenthusiastic fist pump. “No, wait, we need to talk. About – things. Last night things?”

Johnny tosses a container to him, then says with a grin, “Yeah, it was pretty sweet, right? Never thought you were _that_ flexible-“

“Not those things!” Peter yelps. “Are you really not freaking out about your heterosexuality right now?”

“Figured I get one free pass,” Johnny replies with a shrug. “You should be flattered I used it on you, not Michael B Jordan.”

“Like Michael B Jordan would ever sleep with you,” Peter mutters, then shakes his head. “Okay, fine! You’re totally not freaking out?”

“Totally not,” Johnny confirms. “Now are we going to start this marathon or what, because the food’s getting cold, and the last time I tried reheating take-out, I set it on fire.”

So they take their food and sit on the ratty couch, Johnny flopped lengthways as usual, Peter balancing on one arm until Johnny rolls his eyes and hooks an arm around his waist, dragging him forward until they’re pressed close together.

“Man, you were worried about _me_ freaking out?” he says.

“I had a better view over there,” Peter mutters. They watch as Gordon Ramsay screams at the red team until they leave the kitchen, and when it cuts to commercial, Johnny grabs Peter by the shirt and pulls him in for a kiss, hard and messy. As demonstrated the night before, it’s kind of hard to think when Johnny Storm is sucking on your lower lip, so it takes a few minutes for Peter to wrench himself away.

“Dude, come on,” Johnny mumbles against his neck, just under his ear. Peter shivers. “Stop being all overthink-y about this.”

“One of us has to actually think about things,” Peter says. Johnny pulls back enough to give him a mock-wounded look.

“Harsh,” he sighs. “Look, I know I said I don’t go for the nerd type, but you’re alright. And I don’t _actually_ mind the whole dude thing, that much.”

“But you’re so _straight_ ,” Peter says blankly. Johnny shrugs.

“Shit happens,” he replies. “What I’m saying is, I like you, apparently. So. Date me?”

“With an offer like that, how can I refuse?” Peter says dryly.

“Cool.” There’s a moment of awkward silence; then, “We don’t have to wait until the third date to have sex again though, right? Because that’d be-”

If for nothing else, the fact that Peter now has a foolproof way of getting Johnny to shut up makes it totally worth it.

 

\---

 

“I’m just saying, two of my exes made a club specifically for the purpose of making fun of me, and my other ex regularly tries to kill me,” Peter says from the top of the wall-mounted cupboards. “I don’t really have the best track record with the whole dating thing.”

“So, I promise not to go darkside, and not to make fun of you more than I already do,” Johnny replies. “Happy?”

“I’d be happier if you _stopped getting grease all over my books_!” Johnny just continues flipping pancakes and starts humming loudly.

 

\---

 

 ** _pick up bacon on way home i need meat and not in a sexy way_** the text reads. He resolves to ignore it in favour of continuing to chat with Gwen over disgustingly sugary venti caramel mochas.

“So don’t be surprised if Aunt May suddenly call you and says she’s disowning you and adopting me instead, okay?” Gwen finishes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible nephew, I know,” he says. “The sweater went to a good cause, I don’t know what you want me to say.” His phone vibrates again, and he valiantly does not look at it for at least five seconds.

**_pls ur my only hope :(_ **

It’s incredible how Johnny still claims that Peter is the twelve year old girl. “And besides, a viking funeral was more than that thing deserved,” he tells Gwen, then quickly taps out a text and presses send.

_fine, but u owe me in sexy ways_

The reply comes within seconds.

**_:D bro!! <3 <3_ **

“I can’t believe you two are sleeping together,” Gwen says, reading over his shoulder. “Somehow, it’s even more hilarious than when you _weren’t_ sleeping together.”

“We are heroes of the modern age,” Peter replies. She pats his head condescendingly.

"It's more that you deserve each other," she says. 

She's kind of right. She usually is.


End file.
